The Rise of True Crime and “Missing White Woman Syndrome”
By Jordan DelFiugo
In 2004, journalist Gwen Ifill coined the phrase “Missing White Woman Syndrome,” to describe the stark disparities in media coverage between cases of endangered white women and those involving women of color. Often, both real and fictional cases of missing or murdered white women receive extensive, detailed media attention whereas women of color are treated with apathy and disinterest.
This phenomenon is hardly new, but with the rising popularity of the true crime genre, which often capitalizes on society’s fascination with white women in peril, "Missing White Woman Syndrome" has become even more prevalent in today’s media landscape.
Despite being overrepresented in missing persons cases, Black women’s stories are underrepresented in true crime media. A 2021 study conducted by Sacramento State University looked at 85 episodes from popular true crime podcasts including Crime Junkie, My Favorite Murder, Criminal, and Morbid, finding that 87% of episodes were about at least one missing white woman or girl. These figures are especially striking when considering more than 36% of missing girls and women are Black, despite Black women and girls only making up about 14% of the U.S. female population.
Similarly, Indigenous women are 10 times more likely to be murdered than other women in the U.S. This crisis, known as the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women (MMIW) epidemic, is exacerbated by a severe lack of media coverage. The ongoing neglect of these cases reinforces societal indifference, delays investigations, and ultimately makes it harder for families to seek justice.
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This pattern extends to fiction as well. Series like CSI and Law & Order take place in highly populated, diverse cities, yet the majority of episode plotlines center white women in distress. In films, it's even more common. This dates back to propaganda like Birth of a Nation (1915) which depicts a white woman being kidnapped by a group of previously enslaved Black men. The film fueled racist rhetoric, perpetuating the dangerous stereotype of Black men as violent "savages" and white women as perpetual victims in need of protection.
Contemporary films are also culpable in perpetuating “Missing White Woman Syndrome.” Gone Baby Gone (2007), The Girl on the Train (2016), and The Vanishing (2018) center their narratives around missing or endangered white women and girls, reinforcing the trope and the public’s obsession with their stories. Regardless of the intentions behind them, these films can inadvertently contribute to the overwhelming focus on white female victims in crime and thriller genres.
The 2014 thriller Nightcrawler offers a self-aware critique of "Missing White Woman Syndrome." The film follows Lou, a deranged freelance journalist who profits from sensationalizing crime stories. When he asks the television news network he works for what kind of stories he should be pursuing, the producer puts it bluntly: "We find our viewers are more interested in urban crime creeping into the suburbs. What that means is a victim or victims, preferably well-off and/or white, injured at the hands of the poor or a minority."
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Fictional portrayals can yield real life consequences. Inspired by the 2014 film Gone Girl, California housewife Sherri Papini used “Missing White Woman Syndrome” to her advantage when faking her own kidnapping in 2015. One afternoon, Papini left behind her cellphone and tufts of hair before taking a car to her ex-boyfriend's house, where she hid for 22 days before returning with brutal injuries. Upon her return, she fabricated, with great detail, a story about two Latina women kidnapping and torturing her, amplifying the anti-immigration sentiment now-President Donald Trump was campaigning with at the time.
Four years later, after new investigators found holes in Papini’s case, she ultimately confessed to self-inflicting her injuries with the assistance of her ex-boyfriend in order to make her story more believable. She spent 18 months in prison, but the damage had already been done. Her case was the center of a media frenzy, and subsequently Latina women throughout her community in Redding, California who even remotely resembled the descriptions Papini gave to the police became the victims of stalking, harassment, and violence.
While cases like Papini’s are rare, her story highlights the consequences of a media ecosystem that prioritizes spectacle over substance. The vast majority of women who come forward about abuse are telling the truth, and their cases deserve to be taken seriously. However, the way crime stories are told, both in news media and entertainment, must change.
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Instead of fixating on a narrow, racialized idea of victimhood, crime coverage should be intersectional, ensuring that all missing and murdered women receive attention and eventually justice. True crime media often claims to seek justice, yet it overwhelmingly centers white women’s stories, perpetuating the erasure of victims of color. To truly raise awareness, media narratives must be more inclusive, avoiding sensationalism and prioritizing the dignity of every victim, regardless of race or background. What doesn’t get covered has just as many, if not more, consequences as what does.
